


Not Just My Imagination

by TransBoyFanBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x08, Age Play Caregiver Dean Winchester, Age Play Little Sam Winchester, Age Regression/De-Aging, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Platonic Relationships, Season/Series 11, cgxlb, dxlb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransBoyFanBoy/pseuds/TransBoyFanBoy
Summary: After the hunt with Sully and Dean, Sam couldn’t get his mind off of him and Weems’ conversation in the shed.------------------------------------"So now, you and Sully are like... back together? How old are you?"Based on 11x08
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I hope you enjoy my work! I've had this idea floating in my head since the first time I ever watched this episode, and I am surprised that I haven't seen any take on this scene yet.

Sam was distracted. 

After the hunt with Sully and Dean, he couldn’t get his mind off of him and Weems’ conversation in the shed. 

The Zanna had really gotten to him, and now he couldn’t do his job like he was supposed to. All of this, because of a few harmless words.

Thoughts and memories raced through his mind, creeping to the forefront at the most inconvenient times. During hunts, out for drinks with Dean, while interviewing people under the guise of police detectives--all Sam could think about were Weems’ words.

\-------------------------------------------

_“So now, you and Sully are like… back together? How old are you?”_

\-------------------------------------------

Sam had told Weems that he had the wrong idea at the time, but as the days wore on, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was that far off. 

_‘Do I want that? Do I want someone to take care of me like Sully did?’_

Sam flinched at his thoughts each time, forcing himself back to reality. He knew that Weems hadn’t meant anything negative by it, but the Zanna had inadvertently caused a shift in Sam’s mindset. He knew the truth, deep down; he knew that he needed someone to show him the love and care that he had missed in his childhood. Even so, he was afraid to admit it to himself. 

As time passed, the thoughts became more pressing. They took over his life. The mental and emotional exhaustion shone through in his actions. He was distracted and tightly wound, liable to be set off at the drop of a penny. He would snap at Dean and Cas for the most minor things. Then, he would apologize profusely and stare up at them with tears brimming in his eyes. His desperation for acceptance--for forgiveness--was plain on his face, but he cleared the emotions away immediately, as if they hadn’t existed in the first place. Afterwards, he would rush out of the room and lock himself away in his bedroom. His emotions would spill over then, and finally he allowed himself to feel his loneliness, his pain, and his longing. 

He wanted so badly to talk to someone about what he was feeling, but he knew that he had to keep it locked away. With Amara running free and the end of the world coming quicker than Team Free Will knew how to handle, Sam had tamped down his issues. There were more important things to worry about than his desire for care. He had to save the world. He had to be a hero. The fate of Earth was on his, Cas, and Dean’s shoulders, and Sam had never felt the weight of his responsibility more.

So, he continued on as if nothing was wrong even when he knew that eventually, none of his efforts would matter. He’d crack. He’d break. He’d shatter into a million tiny pieces. His entire world would fall apart around him no matter how much he struggled against it. Then, he’d be left to pick up the pieces--alone. 

Sam steeled himself as best he could for the others. He could have his moments in private, but as soon as eyes were on him, he’d be strong again. He had to be. 

\-------------------------------------------

Dean had, of course, noticed that something was off with Sam. Both him and Castiel had noticed, in fact. It hadn’t exactly been hard to tell. Though Sam may have thought that his efforts in appearing normal were working to some extent, it was clear to Dean that Sam was struggling. He hadn’t been acting right since the damn imaginary friends case. Dean knew that his brother was hiding something from him, and it was clearly taking a toll on the younger.

Dean had been witness to Sam’s many tantrums over the years, and this was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Normally, Sam would throw a hissy fit about something or another, then yell and stalk off to his room for the rest of the night. He was always better by morning. Lately, however, Sam had distanced himself from Dean, even during hunts. He curled in on himself as though he was insecure; he seemed like he wanted to disappear and thought that hunching over would help him do it. He was jumpy and skittish. Sam’s eye bags were more pronounced than usual, and he dragged himself around the bunker sluggishly. Dan was sure of one thing; whatever was making his brother act this way was much more than just a tantrum; his fits never lasted this long, and he was rarely so outwardly shaken. 

Dean was worried about his younger brother. He wished briefly that he could see into Sam’s mind like Castiel could, but he dismissed it as a breach of privacy. Still, Dean wanted to show Sam that he was reliable. He wanted to let the taller know that he could count on him and talk to him no matter what. 

Whatever Sam’s problem was, Dean was determined to sort it out. 

… 

Maybe that’s why the brothers found themselves in an argument one night on the way home from a hunt. 

“I told you already, Dean. I’m fine! Stop worrying so much.” Sam yelled frustrated. 

Dean had tried to find the right moment to address Sam’s odd behavior, but it had never come. Finally, he had decided to bite the bullet and get it out of the way. Clearly, Sam wasn’t benefitting from keeping whatever had caused his distress bottled up. Dean concluded that a direct approach would be the best option. He did feel a bit bad about cornering him in the Impala, but if Dean knew Sam (and he liked to think that he did), then this would be the only way to ensure Sam would talk to him. 

Slowly, he had pulled Baby off to the side of the road. The sun was starting to set, and Sam had frowned as he turned to ask Dean if they had run out of gas. When Dean responded in the negative, Sam knew this was going to be a very uncomfortable situation. 

Dean had tried to be gentle when he broached the topic of Sam’s actions, but Sam had gotten defensive instantly. Thus, here they were now, arguing in the Impala as the colors of the sky changed behind them. It would have been a nice scene had it not been for the subject of discussion. 

“Dammit Sam, cut it out with the bullshit already! I know you’ve been keeping something from me, and I know it’s messing with you. We’re not leaving this spot until you open up and talk to me! Got it?” Sam scoffed at Dean’s words as he tried to turn the attention away from himself.

“That’s rich coming from you, Dean. You’d sooner sell Baby than open up about your feelings, so I don’t think you’re in any position to order me to tell you what’s wrong.” For a moment, Dean worried that Sam would get out of the car and walk back to the bunker, but it seemed that Sam thought better of it. 

_‘Hm,’_ Dean thought, _‘Maybe he does want to talk, then.’_

Dean sighed loudly and unclenched his jaw, rubbing out the pain before opening his mouth to respond.

“Look, I know I don’t have any room to talk. I do. But I’m worried about you, man. You’ve been distant and distracted and, frankly, unstable as hell since we finished up that hunt with Sully. I just want to know what’s bothering you so that we can fix it together, like we always have.” Dean made sure to soften his voice, taking in the anxious look on Sam’s face.

Sam looked down at his hands and spoke quietly. 

“I just… it’s weird, Dean, but ever since that case, I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Well what is it, Sam?”

“So, Zanna appear to help kids gain confidence, right? They guide them and protect them from harm. It’s their job.” Dean nodded. “Remember when we found Weems in the shed after he got stabbed?”

  
“Yeah. What about it?” 

“Well, when you and Sully left, Weems found out that Sully used to help me. And… he asked if Sully and I were ‘back together’ and how old I was. He thought that Sully was taking care of me again--helping me--like when I was a kid.” Sam paused to look over at Dean, scanning for any signs of understanding. He found curiosity, but no understanding yet. He didn’t know where Sam was going with this, which made it harder somehow. Sam huffed. “Anyways… I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Why, Sammy?”

“Because I think I want that, Dean.” 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Sam. Do you mean you want Sully back?”

“No, I mean I want to be taken care of again, Dean. I want to let go of all of the crap we deal with and just be a kid. I told Weems that I didn’t want that, but I think that I do. I know it’s fucked and that there are way more pressing things than my stupid urge to be held, but I can’t get it out of my mind.” Sam bit his lip to keep it from wobbling, then brought his hand up to his face and wiped away a tear. He was shaking in his seat after his admission, and Dean felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. 

“That’s why you’ve been keeping all of this to yourself? Sammy, we’ll figure something out with the darkness. We always do, don’t we? I know that we push our needs back for hunts so much that it’s second nature, but I wish you would have talked to me about this sooner. It’s all fine, Sam. It’s not ‘fucked’ or ‘stupid’, okay? They’re your feelings, and you can’t help it. And yeah, maybe it’s a little weird, but we hunt and kill monsters for a living. That’s about as weird as it gets, don’t you think?” Sam looked up shyly and gave a little nod. “We’ll figure all of this out. We need to talk a little more so I can understand exactly what you’re looking for from me, but I’m not mad at you, and I am not abandoning you. I want you to help you, Sammy. I want you to feel safe even though the world is screwed. If you need someone to take care of you and let you be a kid, then I promise that I’ll try my best to do that.”

Sam sobbed gently in relief at his brother’s kind words of acceptance. He wiped at his face as he wept openly. The stress of keeping in his feelings was slowly falling away, and he shook with relief as his brother ran a hand through his long hair. 

“Now, Kiddo,” Dean tested the nickname on his tongue, happy when it earned him a soft, gleeful look from Sam. “Let’s get home so that we can finish talking and get you settled in for the night. That sound like a plan?” 

“Yeah, Dean, that sounds good.”

\--------------------------------

The Winchester brothers arrived back at the bunker about twenty minutes later. Upon stepping out, Dean was enveloped in a tight hug. Sam sniffled against him, the aftershocks of his fit still affecting him. He clung to Dean as his brother hugged him back just as tightly, reaching up to run a gentle hand through his hair again. 

“Come on, Sammy, let’s get inside.” Sam pulled away and followed Dean into the bunker obediently. 

… 

After showering to wash off the sweat and small amounts of dried blood on them and treating their minor injuries, Sam and Dean met up again in the kitchen. Dean pulled out a couple of beers for himself and Sam, if the taller chose to have one, then made them both sandwiches for dinner. The two men settled down at the kitchen table to eat and talk. Sam scarfed down his sandwich and popped the cap off of one of the beer bottles. He took a quick swig and waited for Dean to finish his own food. 

Soon, as both men were finished with their meals and feeling relaxed, Dean cleared his throat. 

“So, Sammy, let’s finish up our talk now. What are you wanting to get from this, exactly?” Sam flushed a bit and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I don’t know for sure. I’ve never done this before. I’ve heard of age regression before, and I guess that’s what I want…”

“Okay, so what is age regression?” 

“Well in simple terms, age regression is a mindset some adults fall into that allows them to revert back to childhood. Age regressors, when they go into this mindset, think, act, and feel like a child. They can be different ages, from an infant to a teenager in some rarer cases, and their actions adjust to fit their mental age. Most regressors have supplies that help them feel small, like pacifiers, stuffed animals, bottles, toys, diapers, etc. In most cases, they need to feel safe and protected, and sometimes it’s difficult for them to care for themselves to the extent that they need. To help with that, some age regressors have caretakers that guide them, protect them, and provide for them emotionally.” 

“So would I be a caretaker?” Sam nodded. “What would me being your caretaker mean? What would you like me to do for you?”

“Uh, well, I think that I’d fall on the younger end of the age spectrum--maybe somewhere between 2 and 4--so I think I’d like a lot of physical affection and reassurance. I like praise as an adult, so I’m guessing that I’d like it when I’m small too. If it’s alright, I’d like to watch kid movies, play with toys, color in a coloring book, cuddle, be bathed, help you cook or bake, be read to… just generally be looked after like a toddler. I also have a couple of comfort items that I’ve snuck in, but I’d like to try more as we go… I’d like to be really young and do things that come with that, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so we can go at your pace.” Dean smiled goofily at the shy expression on Sam’s face as he finished talking.

“Sam, I changed your diapers and looked after you like you were my own kid when you were a baby. It’ll take a lot to make me uncomfortable. Everything you suggested sounds just fine to me, okay? Nothing to worry about. We’ll make time to go get you some more supplies or to order some things, but for now, we’ll make do with what we’ve got. Don’t be nervous, Sammy, really. I’m happy to do this for you.”

“Happy to do what for him?” Castiel asks as he walks into the room lazily. Sam blushes up to his ears as he glances at Dean for an answer.

“Oh, it’s nothing Cas. We’ll explain it to you later.” The angel clearly wasn’t satisfied with this answer, but he let it go upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. 

The angel gathered some snacks and a beer for himself, then gave a curt nod to the brothers as he moseyed out of the kitchen and back to his room. Once Dean and Sam could no longer hear Cas’s footsteps, Sam spoke up again.

“Okay. Thank you, Dean. I really appreciate you, you know. Thanks for being cool.” Dean smirked.

“I’m always cool, but you’re welcome, Bitch.” Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Jerk.”

\--------------------------------------

Later that night, as the two men grew tired, Dean noticed Sam’s movements becoming sluggish and clumsy. His words slurred together, and though Dean could have blamed that change on the alcohol, Sam had only had one bottle and he probably wasn’t even tipsy yet. Sam sat across from him, zoning out as his eyes began to flutter. As Sam began to bring his thumb up to his mouth absentmindedly, it clicked for Dean. He smiled gently and stood up, walking over to Sam and kneeling beside him. 

“Hey, Kiddo, let’s get you all ready for bed now, alright?” He waited a moment for Sam to freak out on him, to tell him that he got it wrong, but it never came. Instead, Sam opened his eyes drowsily and let his thumb slip the rest of the way into his mouth, giving a few hesitant suckles before nodding in response to Dean’s words. Dean held out his hand for Sam to take, and Sam wrapped his hand around one of Dean’s fingers to feel smaller. Dean smiled openly at this and pressed a kiss to Sam’s hair, leading him out of the kitchen and through the bunker to Sam’s room. 

As they got into Sam’s room, Dean led him to sit on the edge of his bed as he pulled out a pair of soft-looking pajamas for Sam to wear. He asked Sam where he kept his supplies, and Sam sleepily pointed to his bottom dresser drawer. Dean rummaged through the drawer, then pulled out a light blue adult pacifier with angel wings on it, as well as a stuffed puppy and a fluffy blankie. He pulled his younger brother to stand up again, then led him into the bathroom with the pajamas and supplies in his hand. 

“Okay, little buddy, can you try to go pee for me? Then we’ll wash your hands, brush your teeth, and get you all cozy in bed.” Dean felt a little silly reminding his 6’4 brother to use the bathroom, but he wasn’t uncomfortable, and the shy smile and wiggle he got from the regressed man in response made him sure he had said the right thing. 

Dean waited outside the bathroom door for Sam to use the restroom, then came in and helped him wash his hands, change into his pajamas, and brush his teeth. He offered Sammy the stuffed puppy and his blanket before he changed him into his pajamas. He didn’t miss the quiet exclamation of “Bones!” when he handed the plush toy to the younger. He also offered Sam his pacifier after pulling the boy’s fingers out of his mouth, holding it in front of his lips until he accepted the soother. Sam was quiet and compliant throughout the process, if not a little embarrassed, but soon Dean had gotten him settled into bed. 

He sat next to Sam for a bit, petting his hair and telling him how good he was for telling him about his feelings. Sam glanced up at him and smiled at the praise behind his pacifier, cuddling Bones up to his face. He closed his eyes again as Dean kept muttering praises. The taller hummed contently as he listened to the soothing rumble of his brother’s voice, yawning and almost losing his pacifier in the process. Soon, he felt himself dozing off, but he opened his mouth one last time to mumble something behind the pacifier. 

“Nini, Bubba.” He garbled out behind the object, letting himself drift off into a peaceful slumber. 

Had he been awake, he would have seen the way Dean teared up with pride and love. Dean pressed one last kiss to Sam’s head before standing and walking towards the door. 

“Goodnight, Sammy. Sweet dreams, Kiddo.” He whispered, then closed the door. 


	2. The Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam looks to Lucifer for help defeating Amara, but things don't quite go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So this chapter may be an odd one. As with the last chapter, a lot of the dialogue will be pulled directly from the show (11x09 and 11x10) to set up for the later parts of the chapter. However, I will obviously be adding some things and changing things to fit in with the plot of this story. Also, I’m not sure if this classifies as angst, but there’s a lot of drama ahead. I hope you enjoy it, because it's an extra long chapter!
> 
> P.S. In case I need to say it, I don’t mean to infringe upon the rights of the creators of Supernatural. I did not create these characters or the show, nor do I own any of them; I am simply a fan with too many headcanons to keep to myself.

“Because it’s crazy, okay? And it’s not gonna happen! How many times do I have to say that this is a horrible idea?”

“About as many times as _I_ have to say ‘okay, then what else we got?’” Sam exclaimed emphatically.

Dean was highly against Sam meeting with Lucifer in the Cage. He knew what the Devil was capable of, and he didn’t want Sam anywhere near that son of a bitch, especially considering all of the time he spent trapped with him in the Cage. Dean knew, even if Sam didn’t, that the younger wasn’t ready for that. 

The thing was, though, that Sam was certain he _could_ handle it. He was so sure that God was pointing him in Lucifer’s direction; the visions made it clear that this was God’s plan. And, really, it’s not like they had any other options. Amara was more powerful than any of them could imagine, and she didn’t plan on going down without a fight. With the Big Man missing in action, there wasn’t much else they could do besides turning to alternative parties. 

“Why would God even ask this of you? And you know what, what proof do we have that any of this is actually real?” Dean angrily stood to pour himself a glass of alcohol.

“... There was a burning bush.”

“A burning bush?”

“Like in the Bible.”

“You were in the forest. There are bushes there, and _sometimes_ they _burn_!”

Sam paused. He could argue with Dean like this forever, but that wouldn’t solve anything. Calmly, he tried to talk sense into his brother one last time.

“Dean, doesn’t it make sense? I mean, Lucifer would know how God ended the darkness: he was _there_.”

Dean went quiet for a few moments as he pondered this; he took a drink and minutely shook his head.

\----------------------------------------------

It was well-known that the older Winchester had an overprotective streak when it came to Sam. It wasn’t a secret by any stretch. Dean knew that Sam was capable--really, he did. It’s just that Sam was his whole life. He always had been. Hunting, Sam, and at some point, Castiel had become his whole world. He had protected Sam since they were kids, and he would be damned if he willingly let his brother do something so stupid and dangerous without him. And that’s what Sam’s plan was: stupid and dangerous. Hell, even Crowley had warned against it when the brothers had gone to ask if it was possible. When the King of Hell tells you not to do something, you’d probably stop in your tracks and get out of there. Not the Winchesters, though. Oh no, they ran straight towards danger because they were raised to do so. 

The difference was that they had always gone in and faced the danger together. 

That’s why, even as Rowena insisted that they needed to leave right then, Sam still redialed Dean’s number. He had promised to call, after all. He tried the number one last time, getting the answering machine again before finally heeding Rowena’s words and letting himself be guided to Hell. .

Sam was nervous as they walked the dark, narrow halls in the underworld, though he would likely never admit it. Even more annoyingly, he felt doubt creeping into the back of his mind as lightning struck loudly around them. In the deep recesses of his mind, his regressed persona trembled in fear. Still, he forced his legs to move forward until they reached their destination.

Crowley tried to make small talk as Rowena painted warding symbols along the bottom of the Cage, but it did little to calm Sam’s nerves. He was unable to control himself as he snapped at Crowley. Crowley didn’t take kindly to that, but he couldn’t quite refute Sam’s statements; ultimately, the tall man’s claims were accurate.

Too soon, Rowena had finished her work on the warding, and she recited the spell that would summon Lucifer. 

Lightning flashed wildly, and fire engulfed the Cage for a quick moment before settling once more. 

A single, glowing pair of red eyes appeared through the bars of the Cage in front of them, and Sam stepped forward hesitantly to meet the gaze.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean was worried about Sam, obviously. He wasn’t incredibly concerned about “Big Sam,” necessarily, though that was part of it; he knew that Sam was competent enough to make good decisions. Rather, it was the potential harm to the kid trapped in the recesses of Sam’s mind that he was troubled by. Meeting with Lucifer was guaranteed to go wrong. Dean could feel it. Dean feared that seeing Lucifer again could knock loose some repressed trauma in Sam’s head, and that it could have negative effects on his regression. 

The older Winchester had grown quite fond of “Sammy” in the short time he had known about his brother’s regression. He hadn’t expected to get anything out of it himself, but it was surprisingly comforting to take care of Sammy; it was nice to know that Sammy would be safe from harm during those times. And, on top of that, Sammy really was a sweet kid. He was patient, kind, and helpful, except for on the rare occasions where he woke up grumpy and threw tantrums. Even then, he couldn’t be considered bratty. Some affection and reassurance, along with an infrequent punishment of writing lines or timeout, usually got Sammy back to the adorable, loving toddler Dean had grown to love. He was reminded of the times he took care of Sam back in their childhoods, but it was so much better now because they didn’t have to worry about John pulling Dean away for a hunt and leaving Sam alone. Long story short, it was relaxing and comforting for both Winchesters in equal measure. 

When Dean heard his phone ring, he knew it must have been Sam calling, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull the phone out of his pocket and answer it. He was frozen in place by some invisible force, and suddenly, Amara appeared in front of him. She whisked him away to some unknown location in the middle of nowhere. As she droned on about the inevitability of their union, Dean forgot about everything else. His phone stopped ringing, and Dean focused his attention wholly on Amara.

In his pocket, his phone sat idly with three missed calls from Sam.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Sam faced Lucifer, he couldn’t help but think back to his time trapped in the Cage. The constant torture Lucifer put him through, both physically and mentally, did more damage than Sam would like to admit. The constant barrage of beatings, manipulation, and outright abuse he suffered traumatized him. If he were being honest with himself, it contributed a great deal to his need for age regression down the line.

Sam supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised that Lucifer was acting like nothing happened; the Devil didn’t have a conscience, and Sam knew this possibly more than anyone else excluding Dean. Even so, he was in disbelief that Lucifer had the gall to speak so freely to him knowing the pain he’d put the younger Winchester through. He shook off his thoughts and made himself face the archangel. 

“You’re aware of the darkness?”

“Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Um, I’m aware of what she _was_ , but that was eons ago.” 

“She’s been released. So now she’s somewhere, or everywhere, on Earth.” Sam hesitantly announced. Lucifer bit off the tip of his fingernail and spat it out boredly.

“However did that happen?” Lucifer jabbed sarcastically, making Sam clench his jaw in annoyance.

The two bickered on about God’s lack of help during the crisis with Amara for a few moments before Sam resolutely spoke about his visions. 

“He answered my prayers.”

“Really? And what was dad’s suggestion?” Lucifer huffed out in a laugh. 

“To seek out you.”

“Get outta town! Seriously? Who'da thunk it?”

As Sam and Lucifer spoke, Crowley and Rowena struggled to listen in on the conversation. With the roaring of the fire surrounding the cage and Crowley’s incessant talking, the mother-son duo could hardly hear the exchange happening below them.

“And?”

“And I need a ride outta here. I mean, I look swell in here and everything, but I’d be so much smoke topside.”

“You want a vessel…” Sam gritted out in realization. Lucifer nodded. 

“One who’s… strong enough to hold me… handy… and available now. Catch my drift?”

Sam refuses him. 

There was absolutely no way Sam would accept Lucifer’s proposal. He knew what it would mean to be Lucifer’s vessel; Lucifer would attempt to start another apocalypse, and Sam would disappear inside his own mind, powerless to stop it. He refused to let himself be taken over and pushed down just for Lucifer to betray them and go his own way.

“That’s not desperate; that’s certifiable!” Sam shouted. Lucifer aggressively pointed a finger out between the bars towards Sam. 

“Okay, hold on there a second, Cowboy. Take a breath. You’ve been working with Crowley. You passed certifiable three off-ramps ago.” Sam didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Sam, why do you think God sent you to me?… Your visions were the word of God; you can’t say no to that.”

Lucifer could sense that Sam was going to reject him again. He couldn’t have that. He had to get through to Sam, or he would lose his one chance of escaping the Cage and enacting his plan as ruler of Hell. There was only one way to get through to the stubborn Winchester, as Lucifer saw it: he had to target Sam’s weaknesses. 

Subtly, the archangel tapped into Sam’s mind. He made sure to keep his attention split between searching the Winchester’s thoughts and engaging in the actual conversation they were having so Sam wouldn’t be suspicious before Lucifer wanted him to be, but he delved deep to the back of Sam’s mind where the man’s most private, embarrassing, and personal thoughts rest. For a few minutes, it didn’t seem he would find anything he didn’t already know. 

_‘Daddy issues--seen it. Heartbreaking romances--been there, done that. Damn, does the kid really not have any more baggage than this boring crap?’_ As Lucifer was about to call it quits, a flash of a memory crossed his vision. _‘Huh, never seen this one before.’_

The archangel pulled the memory back up. Immediately, he knew this was what he was looking for. Lucifer smirked internally at the recent memory of Dean sitting against the headboard of a bed in what Lucifer guessed was the Winchesters’ home, feeding a fully grown Sam--who was laying with his head resting on Dean’s thigh--from a baby bottle. 

Lucifer had heard of this before, of course. As the ruler of Hell, you pick up a few things, and this particular situation was one he’d come across a couple of times in the past. Seeing as Lucifer had no soul and no care for anyone other than himself, he didn’t have a problem with age regression. However, for the same reasons, Lucifer felt no remorse whatsoever for using it against Sam. It was obviously a sense of shame for the man, and that meant that if Lucifer chose his cards right, he could exploit that and convince Sam to say yes. The way he saw it, this was his only chance to get what he wanted. He smiled wickedly and barked out a vicious laugh, interrupting Sam and catching him off guard. 

“Ohhh, I see now. So _the_ big, bad Sam Winchester is really just a little kid inside?” Sam froze at the archangel’s words, petrified as he went to respond.

“W-what are you talking abo--”

“What would people think if they knew you had to rely on big brother Dean to take care of you? To clean up your messes? I bet they’d probably think you’re incapable and pathetic, don’t you, Sammy? After all, how can you save the world if you can even save yourself?”

“What are you talking about? Why are you saying all of this?” Sam demanded, on the verge of tears at the thought of the dangerous being having such sensitive and private information. 

Lucifer pulled the memory to the forefront of Sam’s mind, and Sam choked out a little sob as the scene from only a couple of weeks ago replayed over and over. The archangel flicked the memory away so that he could speak again.

“See Sam? You need me. You’re weak. If you say yes, I can make you strong.” 

Sam spared a glance over his shoulder to Crowley and Rowena, who seemed none the wiser to the subject of conversation. It seemed they still couldn’t hear very well, thankfully. In his distressed state, Sam didn't think about how Lucifer could reach into his thoughts. 

Sam steeled himself again, locking his shaking legs into place.

“So have you thought about it, Sam? Do I have an invitation to look forward to?”

“No. I won’t do it. There has to be another way.”

Abruptly, the warding on the sides of the Cage began to glow brightly before fading off, and the fire surrounding the Cage burnt out. Crowley and Rowena made their way down the stage as the warding failed, and Rowena led Crowley away as he asked what was happening. 

Sam opened his eyes, frightened to see Lucifer standing across from him.

He was in the Cage. 

“Hey Sam Winchester. You miss me? I bet you did.”

Sam breathed out shakily, then adjusted his posture and fixed his expression into an unintimidated one. 

“You’re extraordinarily calm given the circumstances.” 

“It’s pretty much exactly how God told me it was gonna be. I guess I just have to go with it and play my hand.”

“Mmm, and that would make so much sense… if it was God that was doing the talking.” Sam furrowed his brows. “You see, Sam, when the Darkness descended, the impact on Hell was massive. The Cage was damaged. Through the fissures, I was able to reach out. That wasn’t God inside your head. Sam. It was me.”

Sam shook his head in denial as tears began to make their way down his cheeks. 

“No. You’re lying.”

“Oh come on, Sam. How do you think I was able to access your memories? How else could I have known about your little secret? It was all me, Sam. It was never God. It was always _just me_. So I, I guess I am your only hope.”

“It’s never gonna happen.” 

“Ah, well then settle in there, Buddy. Cuz you’re not leaving until you say yes.”

Sam wanted to cry. No, he wanted to scream out in frustration. He was so tired, and he regretted not listening to Dean in the first place. He should have known better than to trust Lucifer. Now look where he was. He was scared, but he couldn’t show it. He wanted to be back at the bunker. He wanted his stuffed puppy and his fluffy blanket. Most importantly, he wanted Dean. Hell, that small part of himself that was beginning to take over his thoughts even wanted Cas in that moment. He just wanted the safety of home and the warmth of his loved ones. Sam sniffled to himself from the corner of the Cage. He didn’t want to be there with Lucifer or Rowena, or even Crowley right now. He just wanted to be home, surrounded by books and beer and blankets. 

Sam shook himself out of his spiraling thoughts. He couldn’t afford to let himself go right now. He couldn’t let his guard down around Lucifer. As the archangel had made clear, he can’t be trusted with sensitive information, and seeing Sam regress in front of him would surely only lead to taunting. If Sam knew one thing for sure, it was that he couldn’t handle being mocked at that moment. So, he forced “Sammy” to the back of his mind again, promising himself that he could let go once he got the hell out of Hell.

“So you did all this just to jump my bones?” 

“Literally.”

“Well you’re wasting your time, then, ‘cause I know how this goes. You’ll taunt me, and you’ll torture me… and I’ll say no. And eventually, sooner than you think, my brother’s gonna walk through that door and kick your ass.”

“Oh, Sam Winchester, you crack me up. Dean? Really? You’re relying on Dean again? Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before… Let me tell you something, _Roomie_. Dean isn’t going to come for you, and if he does, he definitely will not be able to kick my ass. I hate to break it to you, but I’m not like the monsters you’re used to hunting, Sammy boy; I’m the _archangel Lucifer_. Dean’s big ego won’t carry him through a fight with me, Sam. It just won’t. So, I suggest you just save him the trouble of dying by saying yes. It would make everything so much easier.”

“No. We’ve beaten you before, and we’ll do it again. And you know what? We’ll beat Amara, too. Without you.” Sam stubbornly forced out between clenched teeth. Lucifer laughed loudly, reaching up to wipe a fake tear from his eye.

“No, Sam, you won’t. And besides, I’m not here to torture you. I mean, I could. I could inflict pain like you can’t even imagine. I could inflict such delicious, perfect pain… but that was so five years ago! No, I’m not gonna harm a glorious little hair on that glorious little head. No, I’m just going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. You see, Sam, you need me. And I’m gonna prove it to you.”

Without warning, Lucifer placed the palm of his hand on Sam’s forehead. In a bright, white flash, the pair was transported to a wonderful and scenic park. 

They were in Sam’s memories.

They looked upon teenage Sam Winchester and the girl he was sitting with on the park bench, and Sam knew this was going to be hard to sit through. 

“This is one of the few good memories from your childhood. By the way, I thought I had daddy issues, but _you?_ Wow. No wonder you need Dean to treat ya like a kid sometimes.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the mass smiting, Dean left to check if Amara had died in the blast. God, was he hoping she had. Despite how miraculously calm she made him feel, he knew she needed to be stopped. He knew the serenity he felt in her presence wasn’t real; Amara had to have been manipulating his mind so that he would feel at ease around her. That way, she could get what she wanted from him. It made sense to Dean. The Darkness needed to be stopped, and the only way to do that was to kill her, right?

So, he drove on. He still hadn’t checked his phone to call Sam back, and he figured now was as good a time as any to do. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his number. Almost instantly, the call was sent to voicemail. He left a message demanding that Sam call him back, then dialed Crowley’s number. 

As he listened to Crowley’s voice message, Dean began to feel intense nausea rolling over him in waves. High frequency waves of sound only added to the discomfort. The closer he got to his destination, the more he was affected by the nausea. His vision began to blur, and he decided to pull the car over just in the nick of time. As soon as he opened his door and stepped out, he violently heaved and vomited all over the gravel beneath him. Still nauseous, he sat back against Baby. Another round of vomiting shook his body as Castiel arrived, worriedly coming over to him and claiming that he came as soon as he heard Dean call for him. 

After a short discussion, it was determined that Dean was suffering from ‘smiting sickness’ due to the high amounts of energy emitting from the smiting site. Given that Cas couldn’t heal Dean, and that the sickness would only get worse the closer he got to the destination of the blast, the angel offered to go to the blast site in Dean’s place. The older Winchester begrudgingly agreed and went back to the bunker to find Sam. 

When Dean arrived, he called out for Sam. He was expecting a response, but instead he was met with silence. 

“Sam? Sammy!” He pounded through the bunker in search of his brother and Rowena. 

_‘Dammit, Sammy! I told you not to go without me!’_ Dean thought bitterly.

Before he could search too hard, he got a call from Crowley. He answered furiously.

“You son of a bitch.” Dean ground out.

“Miss you too, puddin’.” Crowley lightheartedly replied.

“Where are you? Where’s Sam?”

“Ah, there’s a bit of a hiccup. Your brother’s in Hell… with Lucifer.” Dean’s eyes widened, and he rushed out of the bunker and got on the road. 

… 

He drove for a long while, too worried to enjoy his music. Finally, after what seemed like ages--but was really only about an hour and a half--he reached his destination: Kenesaw, Nebraska.

He stepped out of the Impala and tried calling Cas’s number, but he was met with the voicemail tone. Dean left a quick message asking the angel to meet him because he was going to Hell, but he was already banging on the door to the sketchy building by the time that he hung up.

Billie the Reaper took great pleasure in embarrassing the Winchester by making him sing the password, and after he finished reciting it, she let him in. After a brief conversation, she opened the door to Hell and let Dean walk through. 

Dean made his way down the long, dark staircase into Hell, and met Crowley at the bottom.

\----------------------------------------------

Sam, for his part, was doing very well with resisting Lucifer. Despite having been taken through many of his own memories, and Lucifer’s coaxing, Sam had stayed resolute in his refusal. Partly, this was because he thought every word that came out of Lucifer’s mouth was a steaming pile of crap. He never thought of himself how Lucifer was describing him, and sure, even if he doubted himself and questioned his choices more often than not, who was Lucifer to tell him that he’d gone soft? 

Eventually, Lucifer snapped himself and Sam back into reality. He personally felt as though he was doing a fantastic job of manipulating Sam into being his vessel. So, when he felt confident enough that Sam realized how much he had changed--how much he needed Lucifer--he waved away the memories and gave Sam a moment to adjust to being back in the cage. 

“So, Sam, now that you’ve seen all of that, do you think you’re ready to give me an answer? If you need to take some time and noodle on it, that’s cool, but the world is ending… Do you follow me?” Sam scoffed and shook his head.

“So you’re it.”

“I’m it! And hey, I’m not the good guy. We both know I’m not, but the Darkness… She’s the end of everything. But I can beat her. _We_ can beat her. Together. So come on, Sam, make the right choice--the big sacrifice--one more time, man. It’s time to save the world, man. And you and I both know you can’t do it alone…” Lucifer placed a subtle jab at the end of his statement for good measure. Hopefully, it would remind Sam that he knew his ‘shameful secret’, and it would push him just far enough to say yes.

“No. No.”

“What do you mean, no? This is selfish, man. Everything that--”

“You are done! It’s over.” Sam pauses to stand up. “You know what? You talk a good game. You do. Hell, you had me sold a few times. But then I thought, ‘what if you’re right? What if you can beat her?’”

**_“I can!”_ **

“Yeah right! Last time, you had three other archangels and God backing you up! We have none of them. And let’s say that you do manage to kill Amara, hm? You manage to gank her--what happens next? I’ll tell you what I think: I think you’re going to try to start the apocalypse _again_. You’re going to ruin lives just like Amara would because that’s all you know how to do. You’re an old dog, and that’s your old trick. No matter who wins between you or the Darkness, everyone else loses. You don’t care about them; you’re just as bad as Amara, and if you get the chance, you’ll leave humanity to suffer just like your dad did to you. So, no. I’m not going to be your vessel no matter how many memories you drag me through, or how many times your insult me, or how much you torture me. And you know what else? I don’t care that you know I age regress, because it helps me, and you don’t matter. I don’t care about you or your opinion; the only reason I’m here is because I hoped that you would do the right thing, for once, by helping us kill Amara. But obviously, I was misguided. I have faith in my friends, in my family… we will find a way without you, even if it means I have to die. Even if I have to watch people I love die, I will not be your vessel.” 

The last statement sent a chill up Sam’s spine. He was talking out of his ass at that point. He wasn’t ready to die, and even more than that, he wasn’t ready to watch his family die. He didn’t know what he’d do if Dean or Cas died for good, truthfully. He hoped he never had to find out. He just wanted Lucifer to stop talking, because his voice was starting to get annoying. Not only that, but Lucifer raising his voice was bringing back painful memories for the first time he was stuck in the cage, and it was unpleasant to say the least. Those particular memories made him want to cower in a corner and cry, so he needed to push back and make Lucifer hear his message loud and clear. He would not be Lucifer’s bitch. 

Lucifer smiled evilly and looked away for a moment. When he turned back and spoke, his voice was disturbingly calm. 

“Okay… Plan B.” With that Lucifer landed a powerful punch to Sam’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. He beat the Winchester senselessly, and Sam groaned out in pain as the archangel laid kick after kick to his sides. 

From another room across the hall, Dean, Crowley, Rowena, and Castiel (who had come as soon as Amara sent him away to Billie) could hear the wails of agony coming from the cage. 

“Sam!” Dean yelled, sprinting out of the room towards his brother’s cries. 

“Don’t!” Crowley warned, but Castiel and Dean were already out of the room. 

When the duo arrived in front of the cage, they saw Lucifer holding Sam up by the collar. He threw a punch at the tall man’s face, effectively knocking him to the ground, before Dean and Castiel ran over to intervene. Immediately upon hearing Castiel’s shout, Lucifer turned his attention away from Sam just long enough to snap the other ⅔ of Team Free Will into the Cage as well. Lucifer smirked at the new members.

  
“Scared?” He asked tauntingly.

“Not even a little.” Dean grunted as Castiel slid a demon blade out of his trench coat sleeve.

Lucifer tsked at the blade, then snapped his fingers. Music blared around them, and Lucifer began to shimmy his shoulders and dance to the beat. Cas and Dean stood there for a few moments, completely bewildered, before Cas grew tired of it and pounced on the archangel. 

Soon, the four men were all fighting, even as Lucifer tried to convince them that he could beat the Darkness. Dean reassured Sam that if they could last a few minutes, Crowley and Rowena would have completed a spell to cast Lucifer back to his cage. They would be safe so long as they could last just a few moments longer. 

Team Free Will continued to get their asses handed to them by Lucifer, and before too long, Lucifer had Dean gripped by the throat. He lifted him into the air, resting him against the cold, metal bars of the Cage, then turned to Sam as Dean struggled for air. 

“All right, Sam, I’m gonna make this real easy for you. You say the magic word, or your brother dies. And we both know you won’t let that happen.”

Dean dangled there for a few more seconds before Castiel gained the strength to stand. In a flash, Castiel ran towards Lucifer. The archangel lost his hold on Dean, but he soon had Castiel pinned against the bars; he punched the angel repeatedly as Dean went to check on Sam.

“So? Last words?” Lucifer asked smugly as he stood over Castiel.

At once, Lucifer’s body began to glow brightly, and in the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from the Cage. 

Rowena had completed the spell. 

The three men took a few moments to catch their breath and gather themselves. Then, they stood up and exited the Cage. They were met by Crowley and Rowena on the stairs. 

“You’re welcome… Anyone?” Rowena said smoothly, a small smirk on her lips. 

“Bite me.” Dean gritted out. 

“This has been a horrible trainwreck. So, we’re done. Team-up over.”

“What about her?” Sam pointed to Rowena. Crowley considered.

“She stays. The rest of you lot, get the hell out of Hell.”  
They didn’t need to be told twice. 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel exited the dilapidated building, taking in the fresh air and night sky. As Sam went to the car to wait for Dean, Dean turned to Castiel.

“You alright?” He asked. 

“I think so. I will be.”

“Can we give you a lift?”

“No, you two go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” The angel assured.

“Okay.” Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the Impala.

Castiel watched intensely as the Winchester brothers loaded into the car. As Sam sent him a salute, the angel gave a curt nod, the dangerous expression still on his face. 

“Is he alright?” Sam asked Dean.

“Tough day.” Dean replied exhaustedly.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” 

“You good?” Dean looked Sam in the eyes, searching for discomfort or distress in his brother’s eyes.

“I don’t know. I mean, what if Lucifer was telling the truth? What if he’s--” Sam was cut off by Dean, who shook his head.

“No, dude, the Darkness is bad. Her and the Devil? That’s a nightmare.”

Dean started Baby up, driving off into the night and beginning the long journey home to the bunker. 

Castiel watched them drive off before smirking soullessly and turning away, waltzing back into the building and down into Hell. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Dean had been driving for nearly an hour when he heard quiet sniffling coming from the passenger seat. He whipped his head around to his younger brother, who was crying silently while looking at his lap. 

  
_‘Well, I guess the Impala is as good a place for a breakdown as any.’_

“Hey, hey Sammy, what’s wrong?” Dean asked gently, hoping to coax Sam into talking. The younger is clearly shaken up from earlier, and Dean guessed that he had decided that he was not ‘good’, after all. 

“He knows, Dean.” Sam whimpered, not meeting Dean’s eyes. 

“What’re you talking about, Sam? Who knows what?”

“Lucifer. He knows about me--about my regression.” 

Dean did a double-take at that. He almost pulled the car over, but he figured that Sam would want to get home as soon as possible, so he kept moving, shifting his eyes from his brother to the road, and back again.

“I’m right here, Sammy. You’re alright. Did he do something?” Dean was afraid to know the answer, because he knew that if Lucifer did anything to Sam, he would have a hard time keeping himself from turning the car around and killing that son of a bitch. 

Sam nodded.

“He mocked me; he called me pathetic and weak… and he told me that other people would think I was incapable of saving the world if they knew.” Sam’s voice shook as he fought to get the words out. “H-he used it against me. He looked into my memories, and when he found my insecurities, he told me that I was weak and that I needed him to make me strong.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, making his knuckles turn white. 

“What do you mean, Sam?”

“He wanted me to be his vessel, Dean, and he kept taking me through my memories to show me that I’ve gone soft. He told me that people would see me as incompetent if they knew I relied on you to take care of me… he said that he was my only hope of beating Amara because I wasn’t strong enough without him. I said no, Dean! I kept saying that I wouldn’t be his vessel, so he kept pushing! I told him that we could beat her without his help and that I didn’t care about his opinion of my regression, but I lied, Dee. He scares me. I just wanted to go h-home and be with you and Cas, but I couldn’t! It was scary, Dee!” By the end of his rant, Sam was sobbing openly. 

Dean decided to say ‘screw it’ to being home late. He couldn’t just sit there and watch his baby brother have a breakdown without comforting him. It was obvious that Sam was teetering dangerously between mindsets, so Dean pulled Baby off to the side of the road and put his hazards on. Within a few seconds, Dean had both himself and Sam unbuckled, and he pulled Sam onto his lap so that Sam was facing him. Despite the fact that Sam was physically far larger than Dean, the pair managed to find a comfortable position. The taller man buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, and Dean brought a hand up to run his fingers through Sam’s long hair. He rocked them from side to side, shushing Sam gently. He let the boy cry it out, and after around fifteen minutes of full-volume wailing, Sam’s cries finally began to subside for the moment. Dean pulled Sam off of his shoulder so that he could look the younger in the eyes. Sam whined at being pulled away, but he listened to Dean when he shushed him again.

“Okay, Sammy, everything’s okay. We can continue this conversation when you’ve gotten some rest. I’m gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me okay? I won’t be disappointed with whatever answer you give me. Understand?” Sam nodded. 

The boy sniffled and ran a sleeve over his nose, making his face dirtier than it was before. Sam would need a bath and some first-aid when they got home, Dean decided. 

“Okay. Now, do you feel like you need or want to regress for the night, Sam?” After Sam’s jarring encounter with Lucifer earlier, he really did need to regress. He nodded clumsily, the waterworks starting up once again. Dean instantly pushed Sam’s head back to rest in the crook of his neck again. He started rocking once again, assuring Sam that he would be okay. “Shhh, Sammy, it’s okay, Dee’s right here. You’re safe. We’re gonna get you home, and we’re gonna get you all nice and clean for bed. That sound nice, Kiddo?” Sam nodded into his shoulder, getting tears and snot all over Dean’s jacket. 

They stayed like that for a few more minutes so that Sam could calm down again. When Dean moved Sam off of his lap, the quickly regressing boy whined and fussed. Dean cooed at him and decided to let Sam sit in the middle seat next to him. He buckled the seatbelt over Sam’s lap, then got back on the road to finish their drive. Thankfully, they only had about twenty minutes left to the bunker, and Sammy seemed content to lean against Dean’s side and suck his thumb tiredly the whole way there. Dean, for his part, couldn’t bear to make him stop sucking his thumb this time; they were almost home, anyways, and he didn’t want to take away any source of Sam’s comfort. It was obvious the regressed man needed it. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

When they arrived back home, Dean looked down at Sam. It seemed that the younger had dozed off at some point in the last twenty minutes of the ride, and Dean smiled a bit to himself at the peaceful expression on his face. He gently rubbed the boy’s shoulder, hoping to wake him up. When he received a small whine, he knew that it had worked. 

Sam attempted to bury himself further into Dean’s side, but Dean lightly tsked and guided him into an upright position. Sammy slowly opened his eyes to pout up at his big brother.

“Bubba, ‘m tired.” The regressed Winchester complained sleepily. 

“I know, Kid, but we’re home, and you need to be cleaned up and put to bed.” Sam gave Dean hardcore puppy-dog eyes, but Dean resisted and unbuckled Sammy’s seatbelt, pulling him out of the car and taking his hand. He led Sammy by the hand into the bunker, and he smiled softly as Sam rubbed at his eyes with his free fist. The boy yawned as Dean walked him through the bunker and into the bathroom. 

Dean set a drowsy Sammy on the closed lid of the toilet. He opened the cabinet next to the sink and pulled out the first aid kit. He winced as he realized that Sammy was probably going to dislike Dean cleaning his wounds. He turned back to his brother with a smile on his face, hoping to offset some of the nervousness about the first aid kit. However, as soon as Sammy saw it, he began to whimper and shake his head.

“No, Dee!” For the third time that night, Dean watched as Sammy’s eyes welled up with tears. He put the kit down next to him and pulled Sam into his chest, rubbing the boy’s back. 

“You’re okay, Kiddo, Dee’s gonna fix it for you, and it’ll be over before you know it.” He whispered soothingly, but the younger shook his head more emphatically. 

“Burns, Dee! Don’t like it!” 

“I know you don’t, Buddy, but we gotta clean your wounds so they don’t get infected.”

“Infected?” 

“Yeah, Buddy: infected. If we don’t clean you up well enough, it’ll hurt worse.”

“More ouchies?” Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Never in a million years did he think his little brother would utter the word “ouchies,” but here they were. If Dean had less control over himself, he may have cooed at the use of the word, but he realized that Sam was waiting for an answer, so he responded.

“Yes, Buddy, more ouchies. So, can I clean you up now?” Sam contemplated this for a few moments before nodding minutely. 

“Okay, good boy, Sammy. After we clean your wounds, we’ll give you a bath and get you ready for bed. Maybe we can even have some pie before bed. How does that sound?” Sam perked up at the promise of pie, and he nodded enthusiastically at the plan. 

Dean set about carefully cleaning Sam’s cuts, pausing to comfort the boy when he whimpered in pain. Soon, he had all of Sam’s wounds clean and bandaged. The older man stood up, telling Sam to stay put for a few moments while he ran Sam a bath. Once he got the water to the perfect temperature, he smiled back and Sam and told him to stand up. 

“Okay, Sammy, do you need the bathroom before your bath?” Sam blushed a bit, but he thought about it for a minute and nodded. Dean stepped out of the restroom to let Sam do his thing, and when he heard the toilet flush, he came in and helped the boy wash his hands. 

Then, he helped Sammy take his dirty clothes off and step into the tub. He watched the tension leave Sam’s body as he sank down in the water. Dean, in a moment of realization, smiled and moved back over to the cabinet. He came back over with a small basket in his hands. In the basket, Sammy saw his bath toys, the sweet-smelling baby wash, and the baby shampoo that made his hair super soft. He smiled brightly despite his tiredness. The bath toys and baby bath shampoo and body wash were new additions to Sam’s regression collection. Dean had brought them home on a whim one night, hoping his brother would like them. Obviously, he had, and so they made it a permanent addition. Plus, Sammy loved baths when he was regressed. He liked playing with his toys and drawing on the walls with his bath crayons. It was frankly adorable, and Dean had to admit that if Sam decided he hadn’t liked them, he would have been a little disheartened. 

Dean took care in massaging the shampoo into Sammy’s hair, delighting in the happy sighs coming from his brother. He washed Sam’s upper body with the body wash, then let Sammy handle the rest. Soon, he rinsed Sammy’s hair of the shampoo and told him to stand up. Dean was ready with a large towel, which he wrapped around Sam as soon as his feet hit the bath mat. He drained the tub. After that, he sat Sam down on the toilet seat again, then took a second towel and dried off the younger’s hair. Once his hair was damp rather than dripping wet, Dean placed a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. Sammy beamed up at him and yawned.

“Okay, Kiddo, let’s get you dressed and then we can have some dessert.” He grabbed Sam’s hand again, leading him across the hall to the younger’s room. 

Once the regressed boy was sitting calmly on the edge of his bed, Dean walked over to the new, second dresser in Sam’s room. They had moved a dresser from one of the extra rooms into Sam’s room to act as his “little” dresser. It contained most of the regression supplies Sam and Dean had gathered since Sam first allowed himself to be small. There were six drawers, each of which contain one of the following items: Sammy’s day clothes, pajamas, toys, pacifiers/bottles/sippy cups, stuffed animals/blankets, and finally, Sammy’s undergarments. 

Dean rifled through the drawers to pick out some pajamas for Sammy. He pulled out a silky pair of pajama bottoms decorated with stars, along with the matching top, and when he pulled open the undergarments drawer, he faced Sammy again. 

“All right, Sammy, be honest with me: would you like underwear or a pull-up tonight?” Dean asked directly. Sammy’s face and neck warmed with a blush. That was also a new addition to Sam’s regression. They had noticed that sometimes, Sammy got distracted or had a difficult time holding it when he was small. Dean had suggested pull-ups as a solution, and Sam had reluctantly gone with it, hoping to avoid more awkward accidents. Still, despite the comfort and security they provided, it was a new experience. Although Sam knew Dean would never judge him for it (he had suggested them, after all), he was still getting used to them. So, he whined up at his big brother. 

“Deeee!” He fussed. 

“Sorry, Buddy, just a question; nothing to be embarrassed about.” Sam still pouted and huffed, but he grumbled out a response. 

“Pull-up, please, Bubba.” 

“Alrighty then, let’s get you dressed in your jammies.” 

Sam stood from the edge of the bed and unwrapped the towel from around his shoulders. He was basically dry now, so the pajamas wouldn’t stick to him uncomfortably. He stepped into the pull-up that Dean held out, then let Dean put his pajamas on over it. The older smiled sweetly at the precious sight. He ruffled Sammy’s hair, took his hand, and led him out to the kitchen after picking out a bottle from Sammy’s dresser. They ran into no one as they made their way through the bunker, and though it was odd that Castiel was not yet back at the bunker, Dean brushed it off and decided to be grateful that they didn’t have to worry about being caught by the curious angel. 

Once in the kitchen, Dean pulled open the pantry and fished out a store-bought apple pie. His mouth watered as he fixed a plate for himself and a plate for Sammy. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in decades, and he was sure Sam was in the same boat. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to give someone who’s practically a toddler a slice of sugary pie right before bed, but hey, they hadn’t eaten all day, and after the day they’d had, Dean figured they deserved a little something special. 

He brought the pies over to the kitchen table, where Sammy sat with his thumb in his mouth once again. Dean set the plate in front of the boy, and Sam squealed in delight. Dean took his own fork and fed himself a bite of the delicious pie, letting out a satisfied hum at the taste. Then, he glanced over at Sammy, who had yet to take a bite of his own pie. 

“Come’re, Sammy.” The regressed brother scooted over to sit by Dean. “I’ll feed you yours, okay? You’re so small right now that you’d probably get pie more around your mouth than in it, anyways.” Sam nodded shyly and opened his mouth for the first forkful of dessert. Dean pulled the fork away once Sam had gotten the pie off of it, and the boy bounced contently in his spot as he chewed his food. 

The duo kept this pattern up until both of their plates were cleared. Sammy thanked Dean for the pie, and the older pulled him into a side hug. 

“You’re welcome, Kiddo. Now, time for a bottle and bed, huh?” 

“Mhm.” With that, Dean stood and walked to the fridge. He asked Sammy what he wanted in his bottle, and the boy responded with a quiet “water, please.”

Once the bottle had been made, Sam let Dean take him back to his room. Before laying him in bed, Dean pulled Sammy over to his dresser one last time, first opening his pacifier drawer. He pulled out an adult-sized pacifier that he knew Sammy liked and held it up to Sam’s lips. Sam accepted it gratefully as Dean next opened his stuffed animal and blanket drawer. 

“Okay, Kiddo, why don’t you pick out one of your stuffed animals and one of your blankies, then I’ll tuck you in for bedtime.” Sam’s eyes sparkled as he looked into the drawer. He loved being able to make small decisions for himself, and Dean seemed to realize that. Sam took a couple of minutes to choose before pulling out a soft, green blankie and his stuffed puppy. He hugged both to his chest before nodding at Dean. 

“Good job, Buddy.” Dean led Sam over to his bed and pulled the covers back, letting Sam slide under them before pulling the comforter up around him and tucking him in lightly. 

He sat on the edge of Sam’s bed and pressed a kiss to his brother’s forehead. 

“Alright, Sammy, doesn’t a nice bottle sound good right now?” Sam nodded as he sucked on his pacifier, letting his eyes slip closed. 

Dean picked up the bottle from where it was on Sam’s nightstand, and he rested an arm under the younger’s neck to prop his head up. He gently pulled the pacifier from Sammy’s lips, holding up the bottle for his brother to latch onto before he could whine too much. As Sam drank the refreshing water, he opened his eyes again and looked up at Dean peacefully. The sandy-haired Winchester smiled down at Sam, holding the bottle for him. After a few moments, Sam detached from the bottle to take a deep breath and give Dean puppy-dog eyes.

“Aw, what’s up, Buddy?” Sam pouted deeper at Dean.

“Dee… can you sing?” Dean was confused for a moment.

“Well, yeah I mean, I guess I sing a little--” the man started, before it hit him. “Oh, Sammy. You want me to sing for you?” Sam nodded shyly

“Please?” Sam asked sweetly. 

“Of course I can sing to you, Kiddo.” Dean made sure Sam was happily suckling on the bottle again before he began to sing a lullaby version of Led Zeppelin’s “Ramble On” softly. 

_“Leaves are falling all around,_  
_It's time I was on my way_  
_Thanks to you I'm much obliged_  
_For such a pleasant stay.”_

Dean watched as the younger’s features relaxed. He looked so at peace, and Dean couldn’t believe the effect a simple lullaby was having on Sammy. 

_“Ah, sometimes I grow so tired_  
_But I know I’ve got one thing I’ve got to do_

_Ramble on_  
_And now’s the time, the time is now_  
_To sing my song_  
_I’m goin’ ‘round the world, I got to find my girl_  
_On my way_  
_I’ve been this way ten years to the day_  
_Ramble on_  
_Gotta find the queen of all my dreams”_

Sam’s eyes drooped closed once more, and Dean continued singing as he watched his regressed brother’s breath even out. 

Soon, he’d finished the song. He carefully detached himself from Sammy and rested the younger’s head gently on the pillow beneath him. Dean pressed one more gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead and watched the final wrinkles on his face smooth out. 

He crept over to the door silently, watching in awe as his brother slept soundly for the first time in a while. 

As he made his way to his own room down the hall, Dean couldn’t help but feel grateful for tonight. Even though Lucifer was a major pain in all of their asses, and even though Amara was still running around killing innocent people, Dean took solace in the fact that at home, right now, his little brother was safe. 

Oh, how Dean wished it could last forever.


	3. Expendability and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's been unsure of his place with the Winchesters for a long while. With Dean and Sammy's help, he discovers he's right where he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I've heard that we're our own harshest critics, so I'm hopeful that you'll enjoy it. This chapter follows closely behind the previous one, with a flashback from 11x10, all the way to the beginning of season 12 (12x02, specifically). Happy reading!

“I never wanted this, you know--to be hated by my own kind.”

“Oh, no, I don’t hate you, Castiel.” Ambriel assured Castiel with a kind voice. 

“Thank you.” 

“I mean, we have a lot in common. Our names rhyme--that’s a big one. I look good in a trench coat, too. And we’re both expendable.” Castiel paused at Ambriel’s words, perplexed and slightly offended. 

“Excuse me?”

“Uh, well, that’s why we’re here, right?” Ambriel began, “I’m a number cruncher, a-and you, like I said, I’ve heard the stories… you help, but Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes. So, if the Darkness is still alive and she’s pissed, and she kills us… no big loss. So, sure, maybe we’re not super important, but we do the job. You know? I think there’s nobility in that.” Castiel took a long moment to contemplate the fellow angel’s words. After a few seconds, he sighed quietly to himself, feeling dejected.

After a few more moments of silence, Ambriel called out to Castiel to ask if he was coming. 

“I’ll catch up.” She considered him for a few moments with raised eyebrows before turning on her heel and walking away, deeper into the forest.

Castiel, now sad and alone, allowed himself a while longer to mull over Ambriel’s--albeit unintentionally--harsh words, before he shook himself off and kept trudging through the brush.

_We’re both expendable._

\------------------------------------------------------------

At the end of the day, Dean thought they’d done a rather good job. I mean, hell, they’d saved the world (again), and they didn’t even have to die to do it this time! That was a major win.

Amara had gone off somewhere with Chuck for some sort of “sibling bonding time”, as he’d described it. Lucifer had long since been cast out of Castiel’s body by Amara. Even further, _Mary_ had somehow been brought back to life by Amara as some kind of treat for a job well done; everything was going great, if you asked Dean. In fact, the elder Winchester believed things couldn’t get any better as they led Sam through the doors to the bunker, letting Sam rest his weight on Cas and himself as they walked.

Needless to say, Sam wasn’t feeling quite as carefree and happy about the situation.

Although he was ecstatic to have their mom back, he still questioned how it was possible and what the catch was. On top of that, Sam was suffering from some pretty gnarly wounds after his time with Toni from the British Men of Letters, and he was distressed about the hallucinations he’d had of Dean while drugged during his captivity; though he knew it wasn’t real, his heart raced as he remembered Dean’s devastating words. 

_‘It’s your fault we’re all dead, Sam! Why won’t you just die?!'_ Sam shivered in Dean and Castiel’s hold as they made the trip down the stairs. 

He was in pain, he was tired, he was confused, and he really just wanted his brother. 

He voiced none of this as Dean took over in supporting Sam’s weight, leading his brother to the closest restroom to treat his wounds. As he sat Sam down on the edge of the tub, he pulled out the first aid kit and opened it up. As quickly and efficiently as possible, he expertly cleaned and dressed Sam’s burns and gashes as the taller man hissed in pain now and again. The older glanced up occasionally to check on Sam, who dismissed Dean’s worry with a tight, tense smile. 

Once Sam’s wounds were treated with disinfectant and wrapped up, the pair made their way out of the restroom and went their separate ways. Sam, despite his desire to stick close to Dean and seek comfort in him, was desperate to catch up with their mom. Dean, on the other hand, was desperate for a shower and a beer. 

As Dean went off to his room to clean up, Sam made a pit stop to grab their dad’s journal and a cup of tea before searching for Mary. He found her sitting at the desk in her bedroom. He offered her the cup of tea as he entered the room, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets with John’s journal tucked under his arm. The two talked for a short while, and Sam eventually took the journal from under his arm, handing it over to Mary. 

“Dad’s journal. His writing, his words. Helped me fill in some blanks, answer some questions I didn’t know I had. And you know, i-it keeps him with us, sort of.” Mary took the journal gingerly, smiling up at Sam.

“Thank you.” 

After a few minutes, Sam began to tear up. He softly called out to his mom once again. 

“For me… just having you here… fills in the biggest blank.” Sam’s face twitched as he held back his tears. Mary gave him a meaningful look as she moved towards him. She pulled him into a long, loving hug, touched by Sam’s sweet remark. Sam hugged back like his life depended on it, making up for all of the years she’d been gone and all the hugs he’d missed out on. As they separated from the hug, Sam and Mary said their goodnights, and Sam departed to his own bedroom for the evening. 

Curled up in his bed, he finally let the tears he’d been holding back fall.

… 

In the kitchen, freshly showered and clean, Dean sat on the floor and leaned against a counter with photos scattered in front of him. He reached above him to grab his third bottle of beer, still cold from the fridge, and opened it effortlessly as he took in the childhood photos of himself and Mary. Having her back was one of the best things that could have happened, in Dean’s mind, but as he sat there reminiscing on the old times, he wondered how long they’d have with her this time. He leaned his head back against the counter tearfully, getting lost in his thoughts for a few moments. 

Soon, he shook his head of the negative thoughts; he’d promised Sammy that he’d explain everything he’d missed, and sitting there wallowing was going to do nothing but make him feel worse. Resolutely, Dean gathered up the pictures and empty beer bottles. He threw away the bottles and stuffed the pictures in his jean pocket to put away later. Then, he made his way to Sam’s room. 

Outside Sam’s room, Dean could hear faint whimpering. He furrowed his brows and knocked on the door lightly. 

“Sammy?” The whimpering stopped instantly, making Dean more worried. 

“Yeah?” Came the quiet, hoarse reply. 

“Can I come in?” It was silent for a long stretch of time, until finally Dean heard a muffled rustling and a timid “yes” in response. 

Dean opened the door easily, doing a sweep of the room with his eyes for anything out of the ordinary. Everything seemed fine until he focused his gaze on Sam, who stared back at him with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. Dean moved quickly over to the bed, where Sam sat miserably. 

“Hey, Sam, what’s wrong?” He only received a frown and a head shake in response, so he sighed and tired again. 

“Well, I came in to fill you in on what you missed and ask if there was anything you needed to talk about.” Sam shook his head petulantly. “Well, I think there’s something you need to tell me, but I’ll go first if you’re gonna be stubborn about it.” No response. “Okay, fine. I promised I’d explain everything, so here goes. When you guys sent me off with the bomb in my chest, I was expecting to die. I mean, I got there, all ready to play hero and sacrifice everything. But, she could tell; there was too much energy coming off me, apparently, and she knew I was literally a ticking time bomb. Now, somewhere between me trying to convince her not to go all murderous on the world because of her sibling rivalry, she zapped Chuck into the scene. They had a little chick-flick moment where they talked about their feelings, and they came to a compromise, I guess. I guess I must have done a hell of a job convincing them that family is all you have, and they went off on a vacation of sorts together to strengthen their bond. Amara gave Chuck back his strength, and he took the bomb out of my chest. Amara told me that since I’d given her what she needed most, she’d repay the favor, and they were gone. Then, later that night, I was trying to find my way back to tell everyone that I _wasn’t_ dead, and I got lost in the woods. I heard someone call out for help, and when I followed the voice, I saw mom standing in the middle of a clearing. She didn’t know where she was, so I had to explain everything and prove to her that I was actually her son. I took her back to the bunker, Cas showed up and told us that you were missing, and we got to work on getting you back. That’s the story.” Dean paused to take a breath and gauge Sam’s reaction. The taller looked shocked, so Dean gave him a few minutes to take in the onslaught of information. 

“... okay. And that’s when you guys came to find me?” 

“Yep. Now, I know you’ve got something to tell me, so out with it.” Sam looked like he was going to protest, but a stern look from Dean convinced him out of it. He sighed shakily and looked at the ground, avoiding Dean’s eyes, before speaking.

“There’s a lot to explain, Dean.”

“Well then take it one step at a time.” 

“Okay… well, first off, I’m feeling a little apprehensive about mom suddenly just being back. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond happy that she’s alive, but it makes me nervous. We’ve been doing this for so long, Dean; we know by now that almost nothing good comes without a price. I’m worried that there’s some catch, and I feel like I have to hold my breath and wait for the ball to drop.” Sam stopped to look at Dean, who didn’t look all that surprised. 

“I understand that, Sammy. Hell, I’ve been feeling the same way. But, right now, I don’t want to think about how this could all end up going wrong. It’s been over thirty years, Sammy. I just want to cherish the time we get with her. And hey, if things start going sideways, then we’ll figure it out. We always have, haven’t we?” Sam nods, feeling a bit better at having gotten that off his chest. He breathes in shakily, continuing on to the next issue. 

“Okay, so the big things now, I guess. I thought you were dead, Dean. When the sky lit up, I thought you were dead; I thought I’d prepared myself for it, but I hadn’t. Even after seeing you die so many times before, I still wasn’t ready. I’m not ready to live without my brother, Dean. I don’t want to.” He began to get teary-eyed again. Dean pulled him into a side hug to comfort him. 

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m not going anywhere for a long time if I have any say in it.” 

“I know. I’m just so relieved that you’re alive that I think it’s adding to everything else and making me feel overwhelmed.” Dean nodded understandingly, rubbing Sam’s back as the younger sniffled quietly. 

They sat in silence for a few more moments before Dean pulled away, making Sam look at him with what was incredibly similar to a pout. 

“Is there anything else you need to talk about?” Dean waited for Sam to respond. Once he received a small nod, he urged Sam to continue. 

“When I was being tortured by Toni, and they figured that the physical torture wasn’t working, they injected me with some kind of hallucinogenic drug to break my mind… It made me see things, Dean.” He didn’t speak further to explain, so the older prompted him.

“What kinds of things, Sammy?” 

“Bad things, Dean. I saw everyone we’d ever loved--everyone who died because of us. I saw Kevin. I saw Jessica... I saw you, but it wasn’t really you.” Sam stopped again, becoming emotional for the second time that night. 

“What do you mean, Sam? If it wasn’t me, then who was it?”

“Well, it _was_ you, Dean. It just wasn’t a memory, like everything else. You looked like you, but you were saying all kinds of horrible things, telling me it was all my fault that all of you were dead. You told me it should have been me instead, and that I was a freak. You asked me why I wouldn’t just die.” His voice cracked on the last bit, and Dean watched as Sam began getting worked up again. Tears started to stream down his face once more as memories invaded his mind. This time, rather than pulling Sam into his side, Dean pulled him fully into his lap. He rocked the tall man back and forth, letting him cry, and murmured soothingly to him. Sam was limp in his arms, tears flowing freely, and not caring if anyone else in the bunker could hear him. 

Dean let his brother cry it out for what felt like ages, but in actuality was only about twenty minutes. Sam finally calmed down a bit, likely beginning to be affected by his regular post-cry headache. Dean removed Sam from his lap once he was sure Sam would be okay with the separation, then assured him he’d be right back as he left the room in search of pain pills. Not only was Sam afflicted with a headache, he was still likely in pain from his more severe physical wounds. 

As soon as he found the pills, he rushed back into Sam’s room and to his side. He picked up an empty glass that was sitting on Sam’s side table, went over to the sink in the corner of the room, and filled the glass with water. He handed Sam the glass and a couple of pills, letting the man take them gratefully. 

Dean gave Sam some minutes of quiet to let the pain pills kick in, and once he was sure that Sam was starting to feel a little better, he went back to reassuring and soothing him. 

“Sammy, you know I’d never say that to you, right? It’s not true, and I would never want to hurt you like that. I know we have our moments, and we fight a lot, but I want to make sure you understand that none of the stuff you hallucinated was true. It wasn’t your fault, Sammy, and I don’t know what I’d do if you died. Never, ever would I hope for that to happen. Do you understand?” Sam was avoiding his eyes again, so Dean put a finger under his chin to lift it, forcing eye contact. “Sammy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dee.” Sam whispered. 

Dean paused. 

Sam only ever calls Dean “Dee” when he’s feeling small. He thinks for a minute about this before realizing it had been a very stressful month or two, and that it had been approximately that long since Sam had last been able to regress freely. Smiling softly at his younger brother, Dean ran a hand through his hair and spoke. 

“Good boy. Now, Dee thinks that Sammy needs some quality time with his big brother. So how about it, kiddo? You wanna be small and let Bubba take care of you for a while?” Dean watched as Sammy’s eyes lit up. The boy smiled and nodded profusely, making Dean grin and clap his hands together decidedly. “Great! Well, I think we’ve got just enough time for dinner, a bath, and a story before bed. What do you think?” 

“Yeah, please!” 

“Alright, Buddy. You think you can be a good, quiet boy until we get to the kitchen? People are sleeping, and we don’t want to wake them up.” Dean figured that even though it was a small lie, it would probably be the easiest way to get Sam to listen. Thankfully, Sam nodded dramatically, placing a finger over his mouth in the universal symbol for silence, and the two set off. 

Dinner was simple: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with carrots and strawberries for Sammy, and a turkey and cheese sandwich with chips for Dean. Dean, keeping in mind that there were two other residents at the bunker who could walk in at any moment, had decided to forgo a sippy cup for Sammy, and instead situated the younger with a cold glass of juice; he figured that Sam was about to get a bath anyways, so if he spilled, it wouldn’t be a huge deal. Besides, he could always give Sam a sippy cup of water when he was settled in bed for the night.

Once they had finished their meals, Dean disposed of the garbage and took Sammy’s hand, knowing it made him feel smaller, helping the boy up from his seat. He led Sam out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom, still holding onto the taller’s hand as he approached Sam’s dresser. He looked over to his brother, who had the thumb of his free hand planted firmly in his mouth, suckling adorably. He rubbed the boy’s back to get his attention, and Sam looked over at him curiously. 

“Alright, Buddy, why don’t you pick out your jammies, hm? Get some pajamas, a paci, and a stuffie for the night, and then we’ll go give you a bath.” Any other time, Dean wouldn’t be caught dead using the word “stuffie”, but something about Sammy brought out his soft side. 

With the clear instructions, Sam examined the first open drawer of his dresser for a pair of pajamas to wear. His eyes settled on the cowboy ones, and with delight, he pulled them out and showed them to Dean. 

“Very good, Sammy! Now for the paci and stuffie.” Dean closed the first drawer and opened the one right below it, observing Sam as he made his decision. 

Surprisingly, Sam didn’t go straight for Bones as usual; instead, he shyly picked out a soft, stuffed horse that he’d lovingly dubbed “Rebel” a while back. He held it to his chest protectively as he pulled out a light yellow pacifier. It seemed to Dean that Sam was sticking to the cowboy theme that night, which he thought was just precious beyond comparison. 

While Sammy was busy with his toy, Dean pulled out a pull-up for his brother. They had pretty much become a regular thing when Sammy was regressed, and the brothers had even had a long, adult talk about them to make sure that Sam was okay with that. The talk was very comforting for both men, and by the end, they felt a lot more comfortable moving forward in their roles. 

Dean laid a hand on the small of Sammy’s back as he gently pushed him through to the bathroom. He set the pajamas on the counter, and after convincing Sam that he could have Rebel back right after bathtime, he placed it on the counter as well. He ran a bath for Sam, letting Sam help by testing the water temperature and pouring a small capful of bubble bath solution in. Sammy smiled with glee as the bath filled with bubbles, and the sight was so cute that Dean wished he could take a picture. He refrained, however, and helped Sammy get undressed and step into the tub. He was careful of Sam’s wounds, and he knew they would have to be re-wrapped after the bath, but Sam didn’t seem to pay them any mind as he gathered the bubbles in his hands and blew on them. Sam watched in awe as the bubbles went flying, and he giggled up at Dean as if to ask “did you see that?”. 

For a while, Dean left Sam to play, but when he felt that the water would be going cold soon, he decided he should probably get to washing him. He lathered a washcloth up with the sweet-smelling body wash they used when Sam was small, then cleaned Sam’s upper half. He re-lathered the washcloth when it was time for his lower half, then handed the towel to Sammy to take care of that. 

With Sammy’s body clean, Dean moved on to the boy’s long hair. It was tangled and seemed to be clumped together with sweat and blood, so Dean stood to grab a brush. He wet Sam’s hair first, then gently worked through the tangles and matts with the brush, watching Sam closely for any negative reaction. However, when Sam sighed contently, he felt it was safe, and he continued his work. Eventually, Sam’s hair was smooth and detangled enough for Dean to begin shampooing and conditioning his hair. For this, he used a fruity shampoo and conditioner combo Sam had bought a while back. He gently massaged the shampoo into the regressed man’s hair, then rinsed it out, before doing the same with the conditioner. 

By the end of the bath, the bubbles had all but disappeared, and Sam was starting to get a little shivery from the quickly-cooling bath water. Dean reached a hand in to pull the plug to the drain, then stood Sam up, already ready with a large towel. He wrapped Sammy up in the towel immediately, pulling him into his arms to warm him up a bit more. Once Sam was no longer actively shivering in his hold, Dean pulled away and began to dry the boy off. First, he towel dried Sam’s hair so that it wouldn’t drip onto the rest of his body and make him any colder than he already was. Then, he moved onto his body. 

After he was sufficiently dry, Dean handed Rebel back to Sammy as a distraction from the next process, which the taller man still found a bit embarrassing. He took the pull-up into his hands and unfolded it as his younger brother played with the toy quietly, then prompted Sam to step into it. Next, he pulled the cowboy pajama pants up Sam’s legs. With that, he took the matching shirt and struggled to dress Sammy, working around the boy’s toy. 

Now fully dressed, Sam gave a happy sigh at the newfound warmth, and he held out a hand to Dean to take. 

“Alright, Kiddo, I think it’s bedtime.” Sammy frowned and shook his head at Dean’s words. 

“But Bubba promised a story before bed!” He pouted pitifully as Dean chuckled at him. 

“I know I did, Sammy. I meant let’s get settled in bed for a story.” He laughed quietly at Sam’s now-satisfied expression. 

“‘Kay, Dee. Can we read Bernstein Bears book?” Sam mispronounced behind the pacifier Dean had placed in his mouth. 

“Of course we can read the Berenstain Bears.” 

Back in Sam’s main bedroom, Dean pulled back the covers and let Sammy slide into bed. He chuckled at his brother’s eager expression as he pulled the covers up and tucked them under Sammy’s legs. He settled himself next to Sam on the edge of his bed before turning to the side table. Then, he opened the nightstand’s drawer, where they kept their stash of Sammy’s stories for easy access. He dug through them until he found what he was looking for, then pulled it out and closed the drawer. 

He began to read softly to the regressed man, who became enraptured by the vivid pictures and characters. 

Soon enough, Dean had finished the story. He gave Sammy, who was just barely awake still, a kiss on the forehead. He walked back over to the boy’s dresser and pulled out a sippy cup, filling it with tap water from the sink in the corner of Sam’s room. He brought the sippy cup back over to Sam and offered him a drink of it. Sam removed his pacifier and took a sip, then handed the cup back to Dean. Dean set the sippy cup on the nightstand in case Sammy needed another drink during the night and was still small.

“Thank you for the story, Dee. Love you.” 

“You’re welcome, Sammy. I love you too. You have sweet dreams, kiddo; and remember, I’m right down the hall if you need me.” Sammy nodded as he popped his pacifier back into his mouth, allowing himself to fall asleep as Dean shut off the lights and backed out of the room

\----------------------------------------------------

Castiel had been having a hard time since he met Ambriel. 

Not only had her calling him expendable made him question his entire relationship with the Winchesters, but he had hardly had enough time to consider what to do next before he was plunged into the next issue. First, it was Amara, which had thankfully been solved since. Then, it was him saying yes to Lucifer, who promised he could beat Amara (which he didn’t do, obviously). Now, it was Mary and the British Men of Letters. Trouble seemed to follow Team Free Will like a particularly pesky stalker, and the angel was exhausted. He hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to Dean and Sam about his feelings recently (though, even if he had been able to, he probably would have bottled it up anyway because it was the Winchester way), and it was starting to take a toll on him. He was somewhat certain that Dean and Sam had noticed this as well, but they likely attributed it to “some weird angel thing” as they often tended to.

He’d been feeling more or less worthless since his meeting with Ambriel in the woods, and letting Lucifer take over only for him to be unable to defeat Amara had done nothing to ease those feelings. In fact, it had only increased the tension between himself and the Winchesters; he still felt regret for the day Lucifer had beaten and threatened Sam in the bunker while Dean time traveled to save the submarine, and he worried Sam would have lingering fear or distrust after the incident. Although things appeared to be getting back to normal between them now that there were bigger and better things happening, Castiel still felt anxiety about bringing his fears to the brothers. He feared they would only confirm the female angel’s words, even if he knew it was unlikely. 

Even after Dean’s reassurances that he was the best friend they’d ever had, and that he was Sam and Dean’s ‘brother,’ he couldn’t fight the pessimism building in him. Generally, he felt insecure about his place with the Winchesters. More specifically, he felt as though he was just a tool to them, and that he was constantly letting them down. 

With his anxiety and insecurity raging constantly, it was no surprise when he finally broke down. 

The morning after bringing Sam home from where he was held by the British Men of Letters, Castiel sat in the kitchen and hovered over a newspaper, trying to focus long enough to read it. He was majorly unsuccessful, and was about to give up, when Dean strolled into the room nonchalantly.

The elder Winchester stopped, however, when he saw Castiel sitting at the kitchen table. He obviously hadn’t expected to see the angel there, and he moved to quickly hide something behind his back. Castiel couldn’t make out what it was, but his mind was swimming, and he couldn’t be bothered to pursue it further. 

The pair greeted each other tersely as Dean shuffled over to the fridge. He checked to see that Castiel was looking back at the paper again before moving Sam’s sippy cup back in front of him, filling it with juice. He kept the cup hidden from Cas’s view as he fixed breakfast for himself and his brother.

Sam had woken up regressed this morning, much to Dean’s surprise and delight. His brother almost never woke up small, which was a testament to how much Sam had been through the past few days. So, when Sammy had sought out Dean and entered his room with a cute pout, shaking his shoulder and calling out quietly to wake his big brother up, Dean was shocked. He took it in stride as Sammy complained about being hungry, and he sat up in bed, pulling Sam into his arms. He had then carried the boy back to his own room with some effort after doing a quick hallway check to make sure it was clear, and pulled out some toys for the younger to play with while he snuck off to make them some food. 

That was how they’d ended up here. 

To keep up appearances, Dean tried to engage Castiel in some light conversation. 

“Anything good in the papers?” Dean asked openly. Castiel sighed, but didn’t respond. “... Uh, Cas? Hey!” Castiel snapped his head in Dean’s direction questioningly. 

“Yes, Dean?” He asked, as tired as he could be considering he didn’t actually require sleep.

“Anything good?” Dean questioned again. However, all Castiel heard was “You good?”, which seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Dean jumped in shock as Castiel let out a quiet wail.

“Whoa, whoa, hey. Cas, it’s okay. What happened, man? What’s wrong?” Dean panicked, unused to seeing Castiel come apart like this. He could only watch as Castiel whimpered and sniffled to himself, hastily working to calm himself down. Dean would give him credit: he had pulled himself together far quicker than he’d ever seen anyone do in his life, save for the couple of times he’d seen John cry over the years.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Dean.” Cas forced out through shaky breaths.

“Bullshit, it's nothing to worry about. Don’t give me that crap, Cas. I don’t remember ever seeing you cry since I’ve met you. Obviously there’s something up if you’re suddenly doing it now.”

Castiel remained quiet, nervous at the thought of telling Dean what was wrong only for his fears to be dismissed as nothing.

“When the Darkness was still a threat, and I went to scope out the blast site after you got sick, I happened to run into another angel. Her name was Ambriel. We teamed up to check for any odd activity near the blast site, but as we searched, we talked. She seemed polite, and she admitted that she did not hate me as most of my fellow angels do. In fact, she told me we had things in common; our names rhymed, we both pulled off a trench coat well, and… we’re both expendable. She got me thinking about my place with you and Sam. I know this is irrational, but I cannot stop thinking that I am worth nothing more than a tool to you and your brother. That’s not all I am to you, is it? We’re all in this together, aren’t we? Team Free Will to the end?” Dean’s heart dropped as he considered their attitudes towards Castiel as of late. He admits now that, looking back, he and Sam did seem to take advantage of Castiel, even if it was unintentional. He felt like a complete ass. 

“Cas, of course you matter to us. I’ll admit that Sam and I haven’t treated you as equal lately, and it is wrong of us. I’ll make sure to have a talk with Sammy about it, and we’ll fix it. You’re our family, Cas, and I’m sorry that we made you doubt that. You’re just as important to this team as the rest of us. You may damn well be more important, even. Don’t ever doubt where you belong, or if you matter to us, alright? You belong right here, with Sammy, and with me. Team Free Will would be lost without you.” By now, all of Castiel’s tears had dried, and he was left smiling sheepishly up at Dean, who had now turned in his spot to face Castiel. 

“Thank you, Dean.” Dean waved a hand dismissively, turning back to fixing their breakfasts. 

“And Cas?” Dean called over his shoulder.

“Yes, Dean?”

“If you ever feel like this again, come talk to me and Sammy before it gets to this point, will ya?” Castiel shook his head with a small chuckle.

“Will do.” 

Castiel stood from his seat, moving over to pull Dean into an embrace, when a voice cut him off. 

“Dee?” A clearly regressed Sammy walked into the room, pacifier in his mouth, rubbing his eyes with a fist and clutching his stuffed animal to his chest. 

Dean froze in place at the new voice, turning to take in his brother’s appearance. He cast a quick glance over to Castiel to read his face, but he got nothing from it.

Realizing he was ignoring Sammy, he was quick to respond.

“Yeah, Sammy?” 

“Missed you. Food almost done?” Sam began to shuffle over to Dean, who was still frozen in his spot, when he noticed Castiel standing there and watching the scene. The regressed Winchester whimpered and shuffled quicker over to Dean, holding onto him for protection and comfort. Sam sunk to the floor and sat there, hiding behind Dean; he felt younger this morning than he had last night, and sitting on the floor was not only a great way to hide from Castiel’s eyes, but also to make himself feel smaller.

Dean came to his senses, reaching a hand down to pet his brother’s hair comfortingly. Before anything else, he needed to make sure Sammy was alright. 

“Yeah, Kiddo, breakfast is pretty much ready. You want your juice?” Hesitantly taking his eyes off of Castiel, Sammy nodded. From behind him, Dean produced Sam’s sippy cup. He handed it to the boy, who took it gratefully and began suckling, using it as a distraction from Castiel. He handed his pacifier to Dean to hold, and Dean washed it off in the sink before sticking it in his pocket. 

Dean put the finishing touches on their breakfasts and, since it was clear that there was no way around Castiel finding out, he set the plates on the kitchen table and sat Sammy down. He sat down beside Sam and motioned with his head for Cas to take a seat across from them. 

Castiel watched for a few minutes as Dean alternated between feeding himself and Sammy their breakfasts. Sam, every now and again, glances up at Castiel shyly, as if trying to determine whether the angel could be trusted with this. He still clutched Rebel tightly to his chest, as he had refused to put him down when Dean asked. Deciding that he had a decent grasp on the situation, Castiel addressed Sam with a calming smile. 

“Hello, Sam. Who is your friend?” Castiel spoke kindly, trying to not scare Sam, who was obviously in a very fragile and vulnerable state of mind. 

Sammy looked up at Dean as if asking whether it was okay to answer, and Dean nodded encouragingly with a smile on his face. With that, Sam relaxed a bit and turned back to face Cas. 

“His name’s Rebel.” Castiel grinned wider at the shy reply, taking in the childish lilt to his tone. 

“That’s a great name! Does Rebel have any friends?” 

“Mhmm!” Sam spoke again, coming out of his shell more as Castiel asked about his interests. “I got Rebel the horsey, Bones the puppy, Alfonso the monkey, and Wilbur the elephant!” He giggled proudly as Castiel gasped exaggeratedly.

“Wow! That’s amazing! What an exotic group of friends you have! What adventures do you guys go on?” 

Dean watched the interaction proudly, glad that both his brother and his angel were taking the situation so well. He hadn’t doubted that Castiel would react well if he ever found out, but he had never expected him to warm up so quickly. Maybe he knew what this was? Dean nearly hit himself as he considered it; of course Castiel would have heard of this before! He was an Angel, for God’s sake! He’d been alive for thousands of years. There was no way that, in those thousands of years, he’d never stumbled upon something like this, even if he didn’t concern himself with human affairs most of the time. If Lucifer knew about it, then what are the odds that Castiel _didn’t_? 

Unfortunately, he had to cut the conversation between Sammy and Castiel short in order to finish feeding the younger breakfast.

After breakfast is finished, Dean and Castiel cleaned up the plates. Dean offered to take Sammy back to his room to play with his toys, but Sam wasn’t having it. Turns out, he’d taken an almost instant liking to Castiel as soon as he’d shown interest in Sam’s stuffies. Sam insisted that Castiel go with them and play with him. 

Feeling as though it would be a much needed break, Castiel followed the brothers into Sam’s room. A blanket was laid out on the floor, and toys were scattered on top of it haphazardly. Sammy instantly ran over to it, gesturing to Dean and Cas to play with him.

The three squished onto the blanket, and Castiel and Dean played along with whatever Sam’s little mind thought up. For a couple of hours, they allowed Sam to tucker himself out, until the boy was yawning and rubbing his eyes again. Dean glanced at the clock, which showed that it was around 11:45. Since Sam and Dean had had an early morning, Dean figured it was time for Sam to take a nap before lunch. Sam protested the idea, of course, but eventually, the two got him down for his nap around 12:15 with promises of more playtime after his nap and lunch. 

As Sam slept, Dean and Castiel went to the kitchen to have a conversation and prepare their next meal. Mary had come through a few minutes into Sam’s nap, letting the pair know that she was going out to explore the area and familiarize herself with modern technology.

The two worked silently for a bit, but they knew what was coming.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but what I just witnessed was age regression, was it not?” Castiel asked neutrally. Dean sighed, happy that Castiel was at least familiar with the term.

“Yes, it was. Sammy age regresses from time to time, and when he’s feeling small, I look out for him. You know about all this stuff, then, I’m assuming?” 

“Yes. I have come across some age regressors in my time on Earth, and I have researched about it to soothe my curiosity. May I ask the specifics of Sam’s regression? For example, how old is he? I have a vague range due to his interests and speech patterns, but I’d like to be sure, if that’s alright.”

“Naturally. So, when Sam first brought it up with me, he assumed he would fall somewhere between the two to four year range. Of course, he’d never really regressed, so he couldn’t be sure. Since we’ve started this, I’ve noticed that he can go from anywhere between one, after the really bad days, to five. He was pretty much spot on, though, because most of the time, he’s either two or three. This is just a theory, but I think he stays as young as possible because by the time he was old enough to walk, speak clearly, and do things sort of independently, dad figured he was old enough to hunt. I think he likes being younger because there are no expectations of him at that age, if that makes sense.” Dean paused, letting Castiel consider this. “So, he’s a really sweet kid as I’m sure you saw; he only gets bratty every once in a while, but usually a timeout is enough to have him behaving again. He doesn’t like being yelled at or really any loud voices other than his own. He loves to cuddle, draw, play with his stuffed animals and other toys, and--he’d kill me if I told you this, but--he loves to play dress-up. We don’t have much stuff for him to use, but he cherishes what we have. He also wears and uses pull-ups because they help him stay small; he’s really embarrassed about it, so if you notice, don’t say anything. He’s pretty insecure about it. Anyways, he’s just such a great kid, man. I love him to death.”

Dean finished his long explanation, taking in a deep breath. Castiel was smiling at him fondly, taking in all the information and Dean’s glaring love for his brother. 

“I see. He was certainly adorable from what I got to see of him.” Castiel paused, debating about his next words. “Do you… do you think he’d like to make my presence a more permanent addition to his regression? Or, would either of you?” Dean caught the underlying question: _do you two trust me enough to let me be part of this?_

“I’d love to have you, Cas. As I said, you’re family, and I can already tell Sammy adores you. It’s not really up to me, though; you’d have to clear it with Sam.” 

Castiel nodded solemnly, getting back to preparing the macaroni and cheese for lunch. 

… 

At some point, a groggy Sammy had made his way into the kitchen, smelling the mac ‘n’ cheese cooking. He grinned as he saw Dean and Castiel preparing it, and he walked over to Dean with a pacifier still in his mouth from his nap, lifting his arms to him. Dean hoisted him up with a grunt, and Sammy wrapped his gangly limbs around Dean, watching them cook for a minute or two before turning his head into Dean’s neck. Castiel could hear Sammy mumble something into Dean’s ear, but he couldn’t tell what he’d said. When the younger Winchester lifted his head, his cheeks were flushed. He glanced at Castiel, relaxing as he realized the angel hadn’t heard him. 

Dean cleared his throat, turning to Castiel. 

“Hey, would you mind keeping an eye on the pasta for a minute? I gotta go get him situated.” Castiel nodded in understanding, not batting an eye as Dean carried Sam out of the kitchen. He kept a close eye on the macaroni, stirring it occasionally, until he deemed it ready. He seasoned it with some salt and pepper, and by the time that Dean walked back in with Sam in tow, their lunch was ready. Castiel fixed three plates for them--though he didn’t necessarily need to eat, he did enjoy tasting what he’d made. He scooped the mac ‘n’ cheese onto the plates, then added some grapes from the fridge onto each plate before setting them at the table. 

Sammy instantly dug in, making a mess of his face but insisting that he could feed himself. Dean and Castiel ate much slower, watching the regressed boy hoover his down.

After lunch, Dean and Cas took Sam back to his room, allowing him to play for a bit longer. This time, they just sat on the bed and watched as Sam drew on some loose-leaf papers they’d given him. They talked to each other in hushed tones for a while, but their conversation was interrupted as Sam crawled over and tugged on Cas’s pants. 

“Yes, Lovely?” Sam squeaked happily at the nickname and held up a paper for Castiel to take. 

As Castiel examined it, he noticed it was a drawing of three people in a field, smiling and flying kites. 

“This is wonderful, Sammy. Who is this?” He pointed to one of the figures. Sam didn’t respond right away, instead crawling up onto the bed and into Castiel’s lap (which, whoa, what a great development). He looked where Castiel was pointing and smiled. 

“That’s Dee! And, see, this is me!” Sam pointed to a long-haired figure in the middle of the two others. Sammy smiled up at Castiel as he moved his finger to the last figure. “An’ this is Cassie!”

Castiel’s heart would have fluttered if he had a working one. 

“Cassie? Is that me, Lovely?” Sammy nodded excitedly. Castiel gave him a big hug at that, wrapping Sam up in his arms and closing his eyes. 

“It’s beautiful, Sweetheart. You did such a good job.” He pulled away from the hug once Sammy began whining. He shot Dean a teary smile, and he received one in return. 

A few moments of silence later, Dean decided to take Sam’s picture and frame it so Castiel could put it in his room. He left the two alone, taking the picture with him.

Sam seemed content as Castiel rocked him back and forth in his arms. He petted Sam’s hair, feeling a stronger sense of belonging and usefulness than he had in months. 

As Castiel rocked back and forth, Sammy began to pull away just slightly. 

“Thank you, Cassie.” 

There was something in that tone, Cas noted. There was something that wasn’t entirely small about that. He could hear “Big Sam” somewhere deep down in those words, thanking him for being so cool about this. With those words, he knew that everything would be okay between them, and he had hope that he would be allowed to hear the nickname “Cassie” for as long as he was alive. Castiel smiled back at Sammy meaningfully.

“You are so very welcome, Sweetheart.”


End file.
